Page 63 of Toxic Salvation (Krayev Bratva #2)

VESPER

I’m back.

It’s what I’ve wanted for months now. Slipping on my doctor’s coat feels like coming home. The heft of it across my shoulders, the familiar rustle of starched cotton, the rainbow shimmer of my badge catching the fluorescent light—everything about it screams that I belong here.

This is who I am. Dr. Vesper Fair— No, that’s not right.

The name still surprises me when I see it printed on my ID badge.

Dr. Vesper Krayev.

That’ll take some getting used to.

But despite the satisfaction of being back in my element, I can’t stop thinking about Kovan. Somewhere between the kitchen and the car this morning, his entire demeanor changed.

One minute, he was kissing me goodbye and giving me those beautiful, engraved instruments. The next, he was checking his phone with fear in his eyes.

Something happened. Something bad enough to make him go cold and distant in the span of thirty seconds.

I asked him about it half a dozen times during the drive. Each time, he deflected with a kiss or a joke or by changing the subject entirely. By the time we pulled up to the hospital, I was too excited about returning to work to push the issue.

Stupid mistake.

I’ve spent my entire morning distracted, going through the motions of checking on patients while my mind wanders back to that moment over and over again.

I’m in the middle of reviewing charts when my pager goes off.

Richard Lovell - Office - STAT

The message makes my stomach drop. Richard doesn’t use STAT unless it’s serious.

I excuse myself from rounds and go straight to his office, grateful that I decided to ease back into work slowly today.

No surgeries scheduled until next week, just catching up and getting reacquainted with my patients.

Richard’s office has been completely transformed since the last time I was in here.

Gone are Jeremy’s gaudy oil paintings and oversized mahogany desk.

In their place, Richard has installed modern furniture, clean lines, and a dozen cheerful plants in expensive-looking ceramic pots. The space actually feels welcoming now.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” I remark as I walk in.

Richard doesn’t smile. He doesn’t even acknowledge the compliment. Instead, he gestures to the chair across from his desk with a grim nod.

My pulse picks up. “What’s wrong?”

“Sit down, Vesper.” He blinks and adds, “Please.”

I sink into the chair, suddenly aware of how quiet his office is. The plants are the only things in the room with any life in them. “Richard, you’re scaring me.”

He pulls out a thick manila folder and places it on the desk between us. His hands shake as he opens it, revealing a stack of papers that must be at least fifty pages thick.

“There’s been an ethics complaint filed against you,” he says quietly. “About an hour ago. Submitted to the entire board simultaneously.”

“What?! Another one?! ”

“I tried to dismiss it immediately, but I looked into the legal ramifications. If I throw out a complaint this detailed without proper review, I could face criminal charges myself if it goes public.”

I reach for the papers with trembling hands. The letterhead at the top is official—State Medical Board of California. But it’s the allegations listed on the first page that make me want to vomit.

Embezzlement of hospital funds.

Theft of organs for black market sale.

Medical malpractice resulting in patient death.

“ This is insane.” I flip through page after page of documentation—bank records, surgical reports, patient files. All of it looks official. All of it points directly at me. “Richard, you know this is bullshit. You know I would never?—”

“Of course I know that.” He wipes sweat from his upper lip. “But look at page fifteen.”

I find the page and scan it quickly. It’s a surgical report from six months ago—a routine appendectomy on a twelve-year-old boy. According to this report, I harvested the boy’s kidney during the procedure and sold it for two hundred thousand dollars.

The problem is, I remember this surgery perfectly. It was routine. Textbook. The boy recovered completely and went home two days later.

But the documentation in front of me tells a different story.

Patient death during surgery due to surgical error. Unauthorized organ removal. Document fabrication suspected.

“This is all fake,” I whisper. “Every single page of this is made up.”

“I believe you completely. But proving it won’t be easy.” Richard slumps back in his chair. “The complaint was filed by someone with access to internal hospital records. Someone who knew exactly which cases to target, which forms to forge.”

My hands clench into fists. “Ihor.”

“I can’t say that officially, but off the record? This has his fingerprints all over it.” Richard glances toward his closed door, then lowers his voice. “The timing isn’t coincidental, either. Your first day back, and suddenly, these allegations surface?”

I set the papers down carefully, though what I’d really like to do is rip them to shreds. “What happens now?”

“Effective immediately, you’re suspended from all medical duties pending a full investigation. I have no choice, Vesper. If I let you continue practicing while these allegations are under review, it could compromise the entire case.”

I want to vomit. After months of fighting to get back to work, I’m being forced out on my very first day. “For how long?”

“Indefinitely. If these charges are proven legitimate, you’ll lose your medical license for good.”

“And if they’re proven false?”

“Then you’re reinstated with full privileges and probably a hefty lawsuit settlement from whoever filed false documents.” Richard’s grimace softens. “I know you didn’t do this, Vesper. Everyone who’s worked with you knows it. But I have to follow protocol.”

I stand up slowly, my legs unsteady, my heart stampeding in my chest. “I understand.”

“There’s something else.” Richard fidgets with his pen. “Your husband came by this morning. Right after he dropped you off.”

That gets my attention. “Kovan was here?”

“He made it very clear that if anything happened to you under my watch, there would be consequences. Violent ones.” Richard attempts a weak smile. “I’ve never been threatened quite so politely before.”

Despite everything, I almost smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. A man who loves his wife that much? I respect that. I just wish I had better news for you.”

I extend my hand to shake his. “Thank you for telling me yourself. And for trying to dismiss it.”

“I’ll do everything I can to expedite the investigation. The sooner we prove these documents are forgeries, the sooner you can get back to work.”

I gather my purse and the leather case of medical instruments Kovan gave me this morning. The irony isn’t lost on me: He gave me tools to celebrate my return to work, and now, I’m walking out on day one.

“Richard?” I pause at his door. “Don’t tell Kovan about this yet.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Vesper, I can’t keep something this serious from him. Especially after this morning’s conversation.”

“I’m not asking you to lie. Just give me twenty-four hours to figure out how to tell him myself. He’s dealing with enough right now without adding this to his plate.”

Richard looks like he wants to argue, but something in my expression must convince him. “Twenty-four hours. That’s all I can give you.”

“That’s all I need.”

I walk out of his office with my head held high, even though inside I’m crumbling. Two of my bodyguards are waiting in the hallway—Shura and Efim, both new faces I’ve made a point not to get attached to. Not after what happened to Nikolai and Tikhon.

“Change of plans, gentlemen,” I tell them. “We’re going home early today.”

Shura opens his mouth to ask questions, then seems to think better of it. “Whatever you say, Mrs. Krayev.”

I change out of my scrubs in my office, folding them carefully and placing them in my locker. Who knows when I’ll need them again? If I’ll need them again?

The leather case feels heavier as I carry it through the hospital corridors. All those people Kovan knows, all that money he spent on custom engraving, all for nothing. The instruments will sit in their velvet-lined case, unused, while I fight to prove my innocence.

Outside, the California sun is too bright, the air too warm for the season. I slip on my sunglasses and wait for Efim to bring the car around, trying to look calm and collected while inside I’m screaming.

That’s when my phone vibrates.

My entire body goes cold as I read the message.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I have Luka. If you want to see him alive again, you’ll come alone. Your old apartment. Be there in thirty minutes, or I’ll have to send him to you piece by piece.

The phone slips from my hands and clatters on the concrete.

Shura appears at my side instantly. “Mrs. Krayev? Are you alright?”

I stare at the message, reading it again and again, hoping the words will change. They don’t.

Ihor has my son.

My nine-year-old boy who calls me Mom and builds robots and dreams of being an astronaut. The child who saved my heart when I didn’t even know it was broken.

“Ma’am?” Shura’s hand hovers near my elbow. “What’s wrong?”

I pick up my fallen phone and delete the message. If Shura sees it, he’ll call Kovan immediately. He’ll insist on backup, on following protocol, on doing everything by the book.

But Ihor was clear. Come alone, or Luka dies.

I can’t take that risk.

I won’t.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I lie, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Just work stress. Can you take me somewhere before we go home?”

“Of course. Where to?”

I’m about to answer when the phone buzzes again. It’s a set of instructions this time, and they’re very, very clear.

“Actually,” I say as Shura opens the car door for me, “I need to make a quick stop in the bathroom first. Lady problems. You can wait in the car.”

Shura frowns. “Ma’am, Mr. Krayev was very specific about not leaving you alone. Especially today.”

“It’ll just take five minutes, I promise.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t?—”

“Shura.” I turn to face him fully, letting him see the desperation I’m trying so hard to hide. “I’m asking you to trust me. Five minutes. That’s all I need.”

He stares at me for a long moment. Finally, he nods. “Five minutes. Not a second longer.”

I slide into the backseat and close my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart. Luka is smart. He’s survived worse than this. I just have to get to him before Ihor decides he’s more useful dead than alive.

I just have to save my child.

Even if it kills me.